


i kiss your neck (and you laugh)

by jessicawhitly



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: Tonight, the house is quiet except for the clink of dishes and the occasional gush of the faucet. Joyce takes a moment to lean against the door, admiring the picture Hopper painted, elbow deep in dishwater. There’s a plate for her on the table, and another one across that must be meant for him, and Joyce toes out of her boots, leaving them by the door as she shrugs out of her coat.
Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	i kiss your neck (and you laugh)

**Author's Note:**

> From the ask prompt: Person A coming up behind Person B, wrapping their arms around their waist, gently kissing the back of their neck and murmuring, “you’ve got more gray hair back here.” (thank you Annie!) Title is from a poem by George Keithley. Something short and sweet!

The sky is a soft gray when Joyce shuts the front door behind her; she’d worked the evening rush, sending one of the younger girls home and staying late to close by herself. It happens more often than not, especially as the summer nights blend into fall, autumn chill biting her cheeks when she walks to her car across the parking lot after shutting down the store.

But always, waiting for her when she clicks the top lock shut on the door, is a foil-wrapped meal on the stove, and Hopper usually mid-dishes at the sink. Sometimes the kids were home, doing homework at the table, but other times they’ve already escaped to their friends’ houses.

Tonight, the house is quiet except for the clink of dishes and the occasional gush of the faucet. Joyce takes a moment to lean against the door, admiring the picture Hopper painted, elbow deep in dishwater. There’s a plate for her on the table, and another one across that must be meant for him, and Joyce toes out of her boots, leaving them by the door as she shrugs out of her coat.

Hanging it on the rack, she drops her keys in the dish- she knows she’s made enough noise to alert Hopper to her presence, but he still hasn’t done so much as turned around. His gaze is still on the plate in his hands, scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain, and Joyce’s lips twitch fondly.

Her eyes wander over the back of Hopper’s head- he needed a haircut, she noted, moving closer until she could wrap her arms around his waist. Joyce hummed, lifting on her tiptoes until she can press her lips to the back of his neck, just below his hairline.

“Did you know that you have more gray hair back here?” she murmurs, voice soft and teasing, and Hopper snorts, the noise low and rumbling in his chest; Joyce grins, pressing it into the skin of his neck. The years had pulled gray into Hopper’s beard, lacing it with silver, and Joyce thought it made him look sexy- Hopper thought it just made him look old.

“You tryin’ to make me feel ancient, babe?” he asks as Joyce rests her chin on his shoulder, watching him put the plate in the drying rack. “Kids already do that enough, you know.”

“Not ancient. Silver Age, maybe,” Joyce teases, and Hopper pulls the stopper from the drain, the sudsy water swirling around the sink. She lets him go as he dries his hands, and she wrinkles her nose as he cups her face, his skin damp and pruned.

He leans in, kissing her lightly; Joyce sighs and sways into him, deepening the kiss as her hands curled into the lapels of his flannel shirt.

“Did you not eat yet?” she asks when they break apart, nodding her head towards the two plates, and Hopper tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“Figured I’d wait for you, since I knew all the kids were goin’ out. It’s been a lot of late nights this week. Been missin’ you,” he said, and Joyce’s smile softened.

“Only one more night shift,” she reminds him, and then tugs on his hand. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

Hopper pulls two beers out of the fridge, handing her one as they sit, and Joyce keeps her fingers on his for a few seconds longer than necessary before they settle into their seats, comfortable in the quiet warmth that emanates around them as they eat.


End file.
